


Yuri on Tiger

by rymyanna, Severe_Minx



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crushes, DJ Otabek Altin, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Welcome to the Madness (Yuri!!! on Ice)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rymyanna/pseuds/rymyanna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severe_Minx/pseuds/Severe_Minx
Summary: While Yuri loves cats and cats paraphernalia, sometimes the super cute stuff makes him want to barf. When the cat related gifts come from Otabek, however, it's fine. Totally fine. Perfect even. Because at least Otabek understands the struggle of having his public image dictated by his coaches and fans instead of being seen for who he is. Luckily Yuri can use his exhibition skate to change that public image.





	Yuri on Tiger

It was 10 PM and Yuri was hovering at the door of his new best friend’s hotel room, deciding if he should have texted him beforehand or just knock. He had been sulking in his own room, urged by Lilia and Yakov to get some rest, but he had felt antsy. Despite winning gold, despite breaking records, Yuri was unsatisfied with his achievement. It hadn’t been the flawless victory he imagined it would be. He had fallen, which had caused him to barely score higher than Katsudon. Yuri knew he could have done even better. He had made quite the impression, but as what? A prima ballerina that had flubbed a jump? The thought had kept pestering his brain and he had decided he needed a distraction. He was through with his social media accounts, too restless to watch a movie and his hotel room had just felt too quiet after the events of the day. The thought of visiting Victor and Katsudon briefly crossed his mind, until Yuri figured they were probably having some sort of gross, private celebration. Ew.

Then it came to him: he could visit Otabek. That was what friends did, wasn’t it? They could hang out and talk more, maybe Otabek could even take him somewhere on that motorcycle of his. They hadn’t managed to talk at length over the past two days, with them both focusing on their skates in the Grand Prix Final. They had only managed to catch each other unoccupied a couple of times for a brief chat. Of course they had also cheered each other on. Yuri had felt downright giddy watching Otabek skate for the first time. It felt great to know that this guy, who had been so straightforward in offering his friendship, had shaken his hand and bought him orange juice afterwards, was also actually pretty damn impressive on the ice. Gaining such a cool friend and delivering an outstanding Short Program had caused Yuri to believe luck was finally on his side for a change, until that moment his palm touched the ice in the Free Skate. He knew it was useless to feel bad about it now, but he still wanted to right that wrong somehow. Perhaps chatting with Otabek could take his mind off the whole thing.

And so he found himself in front of Otabek’s hotel room. The Kazakh skater had mentioned where he was staying, had even given Yuri his phone number. Instead of contacting Otabek, however, Yuri had marched straight over to his hotel room. With each second ticking away, Yuri felt more like an idiot, so he decided to just get it over with and knocked. Soon he heard someone approaching the door and it swung open.

Otabek was dressed casually, in all black, and Yuri was struck again by the thought of how cool Otabek actually looked. He was even wearing his leather jacket. He eyed Yuri with surprise and curiosity.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey,” Yuri replied and shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“What brings you here, Yuri?” Otabek asked tentatively, when Yuri didn’t offer him any other words.

“I thought we could, you know, hang or something,” Yuri said, leaning against the doorpost, his eyes wandering to the ground.

“I’d love to, Yuri,” Otabek said, “but unfortunately, I already have plans.”

“Oh.” 

To his surprise, Yuri felt something; that queasy little flip of your stomach dropping. He recognised it as disappointment, a feeling he had experienced too much already and hated. He had not expected to feel it right now, so soon, talking to a boy he met three days ago.

He cleared his throat. “That’s cool. What plans?”

The question had slipped out before he could even stop himself.

Otabek seemed unfazed. “I have a gig.”

“A what?”

“A gig, at a club. I DJ sometimes.”

Yuri could only gape at him, mouth hanging open. It was as though a spotlight had been projected on this guy in his mind, like some sort of interesting object featured in an exhibition. A curiosity to be studied. How was this possible? This was the guy who wanted to get to know Yuri, remembered him from when he was a kid and thought he had ‘the unforgettable eyes of a soldier’. This same guy who looked like a badass, rode a motorcycle, and skated like some force of nature, also happened to be a DJ in his spare time?

What the fuck.

All of a sudden, Yuri couldn’t contain his enthusiasm.

“Wow, for real?” he grinned. “Take me with you!”

Otabek drew a breath, opened his mouth to say something. Then his brow furrowed.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Yuri asked.

“It’s an actual club. They won’t let in minors.”

Yuri’s face fell.

“So?” he huffed. “Can’t you just sneak me in?’

Otabek shook his head. “I’m really sorry, Yuri.”

Yuri stared at him in disbelief. “What? You turned eighteen two months ago yourself and now you’re telling me off?”

A small smile crept onto Otabek’s lips, but he tilted his head, almost apologetically. “I don’t make the rules. I don’t want to get you in trouble. Again, I am sorry. Really.”

Yuri continued his staring while trying to consider his next move. He settled for indifference.

He shrugged, trying for it to come off as casual.

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow at the exhibition skate,” he said, his voice a little higher and more curt than he hoped it would be.

He promptly turned on his heel, without waiting for a response from Otabek, and made for the elevator. He even slammed the button to his floor with more force than necessary. When he caught sight of himself in the mirror, he noticed he was pouting, much like a petulant child. Yuri groaned.

Way to make a good impression, asshole, he thought to himself.

Still, he hated it when people treated him like a kid. Judging from the way he and Otabek had gotten along, Yuri hoped he would be different. During the time they had spent together earlier, Otabek hadn’t once been patronizing or condescending. Instead he had treated him like an equal. Except for now, when he had to be painfully reminded of his age. The prospect of seeing his new friend perform was so exciting, though. And it wasn’t Otabek’s fault he couldn’t go to the club either. He clearly didn’t want to get into trouble with the club for bringing Yuri, or get Yuri into trouble for him tagging along. Lilia and Yakov would get pissed for sure if they found out Yuri had snuck out with him. He wasn’t exactly supposed to be wandering the streets of Barcelona at night. Maybe they would blame Otabek too. It kind of stung Otabek apparently wasn’t willing to take the risk. So Otabek taking him to the club was out of the question. But what if Yuri just showed up of his own accord?

\---

By the time the elevator door slid open on his floor, Yuri had come up with an idea. He would simply follow Otabek to the club, sneak in by himself, and watch his gig. That way at least nobody could blame Otabek, but Yuri could get to see him. Plus, Yuri also wanted to see Otabek’s face when he appeared at the club anyway. He figured that if Otabek wanted to become friends with him so badly, he might as well suffer the consequences of that decision early on.

He quickly pushed the button of the elevator again to go down to the ground floor. On the way, he came up with the following: he would hide out in the lobby and wait for Otabek to head out, then he would track him to see where he was going and get into the club somehow. He still hadn’t figured out that final part. As he took a seat behind a gigantic potted palm, which still had a clear enough view of the elevators to spot anyone coming, he realised the flaw in his plan. Otabek would probably go by motorcycle. How the hell does one track a motorcycle? Yuri let out a frustrated sigh as he furiously began searching for club events in Barcelona featuring DJ Altin on his phone. He should had weaselled the name of the club out of Otabek when he had the chance, because Google came up with nothing. The elevator pinged and Yuri raised his head expectantly, only to find it was not Otabek, but Sara Crispino stepping out, wearing high rise jeans and a crop top with an oversized jacket thrown on top. Yuri sank back into his chair somewhat disappointedly, but kept observing her as she loitered in front of the elevator, her eyes glued to her phone, giggling at something and brushing back her curtain of shiny black hair. 

 

The second elevator pinged and this time it was actually Otabek that stepped out, carrying a large bag. Sara noticed him too, halted him, and immediately struck up a conversation. Otabek stood across from her and seemed to answer questions politely, almost as if he was coaxed into sharing information. The Crispino girl was chatty, Yuri had to hand it to her. He ducked in his seat, but craned his neck, hoping to catch what they were talking about. He only managed to hear fragments like “have a gig”, “club in …” and “ might come check it out”. Then Otabek excused himself and went on his way again as Sara gave him a smiley wave.

He must have told her where he went, Yuri figured. This was his chance to find out. He waited a bit until he was sure Otabek had left the hotel, got up from his seat and approached Sara, who was still pacing in front of the elevators, clutching her phone. She looked surprised when he came up to her.

“Hey, Yuri,” she greeted.

“Hey.”

Yuri jerked his head slightly towards the door. “Where did he say he was going?”

Sara blinked. “You mean Otabek? He said he was going to DJ at a gig.”

Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Where?” he asked again, a little too impatient.

The Crispino girl was staring at him, confused. Then something of a smile formed on her lips. “At this club called ‘Sidecar.’ But I don’t think they will allow minors in.”

“I know that!” Yuri spat.

He pulled his hood up. “Thanks,” he mumbled and before Sara could even reply, he stalked off again towards his seat behind the potted palm. He waited for about fifteen minutes, during which he saw a sulky Michele Crispino and a cheery Emil Nekola join Sara and head out the door. He also kept on the lookout for any other skaters or coaches, hoping nobody would spot him. When he finally figured the coast was clear, he left the lobby and got into one of the taxis waiting in front of the hotel.

\---

Now came the hard part: actually getting into the club. Yuri hadn’t even considered going to his hotel room to change and make himself look older in any way. He paid for the taxi fare and walked up to the entrance, willing his nerves not to get the best of him. He would play it cool, act as though him visiting a club was the most normal occurrence in his life when in fact he had never set foot in one. There wasn’t a line at the club, but a gaggle of girls were hanging around the heavily tattooed bouncer and a tall lady who looked about in her mid-twenties and was smoking a cigarette. He approached them with the most nonchalant expression he could muster. One of the girls saw him coming and gasped, loudly. She shook her friends by the arm and started jabbering in rapid Spanish. Now the whole group was staring at him, wide-eyed and smiling.

He shot them, the bouncer and the tall lady a puzzled look before one of the girls exclaimed: “Yuri Plisetsky!”

Oh. Angels.

Just when he wished the ground would open at his feet and swallow him up, the same girl that had first seen him started talking to the tall lady. He had no idea what she was saying apart from his name and Otabek Altin. This seemed to entertain the tall lady very much.

She took a drag from her cigarette and smiled. “You here to see your friend?” she asked him in English.

“Uh, yeah,” Yuri tried.

She laughed, mumbled something to the bouncer and just like that they both stood back to grant him access. He was amazed by his luck. Yuri promised himself that he would never again say that his apparent fame and his fans were good for nothing. He quickly walked past the group, the girls gushing and squealing things like “lindo!” and “gatito!”. 

The club wasn’t very large. The interior was dark, but lit up with spotlights flashing icy blue and fiery red on black walls and the dance floor, where a medium-sized crowd was already dancing. The people attending were particularly alternative looking and the music blaring over the speakers was droning and raw. Yuri felt on edge, dazed as he took it all in and made his way to the bar. The bartender eyed him suspiciously but gave him his cola with a slightly raised eyebrow. Yuri swivelled on his stool to get a good view of the DJ booth, but there was no sign of Otabek yet. While he gnawed on his straw and continued observing, the Angels from outside found him. They asked him for a selfie and he begrudgingly agreed, only if they promised not to post it online yet, since he wasn’t ready to deal with the repercussions of this little outing. They seemed happy enough to oblige, snapped a couple of pictures, bought him another drink, and blessedly left him alone after that. Just then he spotted someone stepping up to the DJ booth and sure enough Otabek came into view. He exchanged a couple of words with the current DJ playing and set up his gear. Yuri watched eagerly as he took over the panel, put on headphones and smoothly transitioned into his own set. Yuri didn’t recognise the song, but the crowd did and more people made their way to the dance floor.

The deep bass, the hard grind of guitars, the lights flickering blue and red, faceless strangers shuffling and spinning and throwing their arms up; it all seemed dreamlike. But nothing left Yuri more transfixed than the boy at the panel, furrowing his brow in concentration, brushing strands of black hair away from his forehead before touching buttons. The lighting simultaneously made each of his features sharper and softer and as Otabek smirked, biting his lip, pleased with a particular adjustment he made, Yuri couldn’t look away.

He’s so cool. He’s so fucking cool.

The thought was put on repeat in his mind, like a mantra trying to match the beat of the music. In a trance, Yuri stood up, drifted to the side of the dance floor, never once taking his eyes off Otabek. The dark haired boy looked up and let his gaze wander. Then he turned his head in Yuri’s direction and saw him. His eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open making him look so uncharacteristically surprised, Yuri couldn’t help but grin. He had been right. That look on Otabek’s face alone, had made this totally worth it.

\---

“How did you know where I was?” Otabek asked.

They were standing in the alleyway behind the club which was used by the DJs and personnel to catch a breath or to have a smoke, both holding bottles of soda. After Otabek’s set, during which Yuri had mainly stood and watched, mesmerized, the older boy had motioned for Yuri to follow him backstage. There, Otabek had shaken his head before handing Yuri a drink and ushering him outside.

“Sara told me,” Yuri said.

He had spotted her, her brother, and the Czech skater come in and join the crowd on the dance floor.

“How did you even manage to get in?” Otabek continued his questioning.

Yuri couldn’t stop grinning. “There were Angels at the door,” he said triumphantly, as though that explained everything.

Otabek seemed to understand this was as good an explanation he was going to get and he eyed Yuri with something like wonder as he took a sip from his bottle.

“You wanted to be my friend so badly, so you might as well know up front. You really can’t tell me what to do. I won’t listen,” Yuri said smugly.

Otabek gave him a crooked smile and ran a hand through his hair. “You really are something, you know that?”

For some reason, Yuri felt flushed at those words. He didn’t know why, but he felt compelled to move closer. When he had been watching Otabek play, he found a plan forming in his mind, something new that he wanted to achieve.

He licked his lips. “I want you to do something for me.”

Otabek stared as Yuri leaned in slightly and a blush formed on his tan skin, the blond noticed.

His voice was barely above a whisper as he asked: “What?”

Yuri took a sharp breath. “I want you to pick a song for me.”

Otabek didn’t seem to understand. “Pick a song?” he stammered.

“Yeah,” Yuri nodded. “I have been thinking about this a lot this evening. Tomorrow is the exhibition skate and Lilia has made me study this piece ‘Angel of the Fire Festival’. It’s good you know, but it’s a classical piece. Again.”

Yuri made a face as though he was exasperated. “I don’t know! I’m just so tired of classical pieces. I’m tired of being a ballerina like in Allegro Appassionato.”

“You were amazing, though,” Otabek interrupted him.

“Thanks,” Yuri mumbled, blushing despite himself, “but I fell. I fell and everyone will remember me as that pretty boy ballerina who fell, or a fucking angel or kitten or some shit. That’s not who I am. You get that, right?”

Otabek nodded. “Yes. I do think that people might believe you to be the persona your coaches have created for you. But if people knew you, they would know that’s actually not who you are. You’re fierce.”

Yuri looked at him. “So you have told me. I have been thinking about what you’ve said about me too. I would like it if I could show who I actually am on the ice as well. So that’s why I want to change my exhibition skate. I want to surprise people with something bold, something that would shock them.”

He smiled. “I want something that’s out there, you know. So people won’t see me as this cute kitty anymore.”

Otabek let Yuri’s words sink in. “You mean to say you want to throw your whole skate around the night before the performance?”

Yuri quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“Oh, I think you can. I think you can do anything,” Otabek replied as he drew himself up and smirked.

Yuri felt something unfamiliar rip through him. He had received compliments before from people, obviously, but it somehow felt different when Otabek gave them.

He huffed. “Do you always say shit like that?”

“Yes. If you’re going to be my friend, you might as well know this up front,” he shot Yuri’s words back at him.

“For someone who is so cool, you’re a dork,” Yuri commented as he rolled his eyes, before adding, “but will you do it?”

Otabek squinted at him and his deep voice dropped even lower. “You think I’m a cool dork?”

Yuri softly punched his shoulder. “Answer me! Will you help me with the exhibition skate, or not? I feel like at least you get me. Please?”

Yuri gave Otabek what he thought was his best pleading look to convince him. After a moment of silence had passed between them, Yuri practically leaning into the taller boy with big eyes, Otabek sighed in resignation.

He gave Yuri the same fond smile the blond had seen him wear in the coffee shop three days ago.

“I think I have just the song for you.”

\---

The scream of the crowd cut through the adrenaline buzz in his head, and Yuri felt somewhat conscious again. He became aware of his senses, his straining breath, his stretched muscles, the coolness of his skin after sliding across the ice. He had done it. He had set the place on fire, caused Madness to erupt. He had stripped away his Ice Fairy persona, taking off articles of clothing along the way. It had been a gigantic middle finger to his coaches; Lilia, Yakov, and even Victor, who had had no idea what he was up to until they saw him step out onto the ice in that costume and the music started. He had presented himself as he wanted to be seen and it had felt fucking fantastic. And it was all made possible by the person who had joined him on the ice. Who had played along, duelled with him, made the ice into a battlefield on which to send off his former self.

Suddenly he was next to Yuri, his forehead glistening and his breathing equally laboured. He took his hand and they faced the crowd, which only caused the screaming to intensify. They bowed, Yuri almost unaware of what he was doing, feeling shaky on his legs. But the boy was holding onto him tightly, as though he wouldn’t or couldn’t let him go, and Yuri’s pale bare shoulder bumped into his, broad and clad in leather. Yuri whipped his head to look at him and found that the boy was looking back. His dark eyes shone with excitement and his fingertips, clasped over Yuri’s milky white hand, seemed electric. Then Otabek smiled at him and for a moment time stood still.

In that second, Yuri felt his soul laid bare. Part of him wanted to look away. Another part wanted to keep staring at Otabek forever, his warm brown eyes fixated onto Yuri’s green ones. He felt understood and alive and wanted for this moment to never end. He felt something rushing through him, an affection he had never felt before. His heart pounded so loudly Yuri could hear it in his ears. He wondered if it was just because of his intense skating and if Otabek could hear his heartbeat too. His mouth felt dry, his entire being dizzy, and he couldn’t stop smiling. The mantra from before came back to him and Yuri chanted it to himself in his head, over and over.

He’s so cool. He’s so fucking cool. 

\---

“I’m surprised they would even let me leave the hotel room,” Yuri grumbled.

Naturally, after yesterday’s performance, both Lilia and Yakov had thrown a hissy fit. Everyone else had loved it. The crowd, his fans and even Victor had responded with enthusiasm. His social media accounts had exploded and the offers from sponsors had kept streaming in at last night’s banquet, so that might have softened Lilia and Yakov up a bit. It was now two in the afternoon and he was strolling through a park with Otabek. It wasn’t as impressive as park Güell, but it was quiet and close to the hotel, where Yuri soon had to return to in order to pack his final things and catch his flight. Otabek’s flight was leaving later that day too and since they had the afternoon off, they had decided to spend some time together before going home again. The exhibition skate had been a wild ride; from the night they picked the music to Yuri feverishly putting together a costume, to practicing at the rink in secret and deciding that Otabek should be part of the performance. They had pulled it off stunningly well and shocked everyone as Yuri had hoped. What had shocked himself though, was the slight queasy feeling he now got whenever he tried to look Otabek in the eye. The previous day he had thought it was simply the effect of the exhibition skate that had made his cheeks flare up when Otabek handed him a drink at the gala, his fingertips slightly brushing Yuri’s. But now, casually walking through the park, with the adrenaline supposedly worn off, Yuri wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Everyone enjoyed the performance, Yuri,” Otabek noted, “Lilia and Yakov couldn’t stay mad at you.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It was fucking awesome, wasn’t it?”

Yuri flashed him a smile at the sheer memory.

“Yeah, it was,” Otabek confirmed.

Suddenly Yuri found himself hoping Otabek wasn’t just talking about the performance, but about Yuri himself too. With a hot flash of excitement, he remembered what it was like sliding on his back across the ice, his top riding up, and he wondered what Otabek had thought of him in that moment. He quickly pushed the thought away and tried to find another topic of interest.

“You were great, though, helping me put together everything,” Yuri stammered. “I already told you this, but I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I’m glad I was able to help,” Otabek said and smiled that awfully fond smile of his that only confused Yuri. Still, he couldn’t help but welcome the surge of happiness that statement procured.

“You should help me plan all my skates! Can you imagine?”

Yuri giggled at the thought. “To hell with Katsudon and his theme. How about mine? ‘Yuri on Darkness’ or something.”

Otabek snorted. “Wow, edgy.”

Yuri punched his shoulder, just like he had done in that alleyway, only this time it came out more forceful and the touch left a tingle on his knuckles.

“You think of something then!” he demanded.

Otabek tilted his head and furrowed his brow, which somehow looked so good Yuri wanted to slap him.

“How about ‘Yuri on Tiger’?” Otabek said eventually.

Yuri started grinning so much he stopped in his tracks. “Fuck, I love it!”

Otabek halted too and looked at him amusedly. 

“I mean, I should totally write that down,” Yuri said, hoping he hadn’t come off like an idiot for getting overexcited. Apart from the small smile on his lips, Otabek seemed to remain his calm self.

“Speaking of big cats, there’s something I’ve been meaning to give you,” he said.

He promptly unzipped his jacket and reached towards his inside pocket. Then he pulled out a headband with cat ears. The whole thing looked absurd to Yuri. Cool and stoic DJ Otabek Altin, pulling a pair of animal ears out of thin air like a fucking magician. And yet, if anyone could get away with something as stupid as that and make it look good, it was him.

“I was out this morning and I saw these at a market stall. They reminded me of you, somehow.”

It wasn’t an ordinary pair of cat ears either. They had faint tiger stripes and were embellished, a small golden chain hanging from the band and a ring pierced through one of the ears. It was the most punk rock pair of cat ears Yuri had ever seen.

“Everyone wants to see you as a kitten,” Otabek offered as an explanation, “but I figured you’re more of a wildcat, Yuri.”

Yuri took the cat ears from him, unsure of what to say. He had been gifted cat merchandise before, a lot of it, all from Yuri’s Angels. But when Otabek gave it to him, it was different.

He was trying to find the right words to express how he felt, but he couldn’t think of anything apart from: “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Otabek replied and Yuri wondered if this guy, this stupidly cool boy who had whisked him away on a motorcycle mere days ago, could even be more perfect.

But instead of saying anything, instead of dropping a bomb like that, moments before he had to board a plane and be hundreds of miles away from him, Yuri put on the cat ears, crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. Otabek smiled.

Instead of admitting to himself how much Yuri was crushing on Otabek, he asked him: “So what other names for my next theme do you have in mind?”


End file.
